That time a lone rogue 'demon' cow caused mayhem in Toronto streets

From narrowly escaping fate as an expressway to being home to an iconic location of a beloved fast-food chain, Toronto's Spadina Avenue is rife with fascinating history.

But one of its quirkiest and wildest moments was when a loose cow, possessed by what some at the time called "some strange demon," went on a rampage through this busy street.

A cow on Spadina may seem weird, but in the early days of Toronto, there were a number of pet cow owners in the city — and some of the results of that were utterly chaotic.

Toronto's cattle crackdown

In the 1830s, as the incorporation of Toronto was being solidified, the city was doing all it could to regulate domestic animals.

In fact, one of the first nuisance by-laws, enacted in May 1834, helped regulate domestic animals — with stipulations like "no swine shall be permitted to run or be at large in any of the streets or any of the sidewalks of this city."

But there are reports that residents didn't find this good enough, with a petition going around to implore city council to further expand the Pound Law to limit these black and white bovines west of Avenue Rd.

Because of this, cattle owners in the city centre dwindled, with only 29 residents owning "milch cows" — which are cows kept for their milk — according to the 1911 census. Their popularity also declined in value by $10 to $15 in favour of butcher cows, as stated in a 1912 Globe article.

Cow-tastrafies of the past

Surprisingly enough, rogue cows weren't an uncommon occurrence in Toronto, with several different incidents being reported in the years leading up to the Spadina incident.

It was reported on June 8, 1911, in the Globe that a cow had wandered onto the Toronto-Sudbury train tracks in the mid-afternoon, causing the derailment of "eight or nine" freight cars and holding up the line for nine hours.

Other reports show cows attacking due to heat, with a Toronto resident bringing their cow to take a drink of water before getting kicked.

But no other pet bovine in the city put a spin on the term "mad cow" like that of Moses Granatstein, a local junk dealer, whose cow was about to take Spadina by storm.

Milking the streets of Toronto

It was during her morning drink on June 15, 1913, that Granatstein's cow threw her tail into the air and bolted from her stable at 488 Wellington St.

After meandering around King St., staring at her reflection through the shop windows, the cow eventually reached a crowd of churchgoers at Knox Church. Assessing the size of the crowd, she bulldozed her way through it.

A brief stop at the City Dairy plant was made to seemingly visit her sisters, and then the cow jumped over to the Annex, where she knocked over a cyclist on Bernard Ave. — beginning a rumour that he was "gored to death" — bullishly carving her path towards Jean Sibelius Square (then Kendal Square).

There were a number of casualties, including the daughter of a local florist and a woman who sprained her leg dodging out of the way.

City Dairy plant on Spadina Ave.

But the cow was quick on its hooves, and proved so by dodging the capturing efforts of Policeman Samuel Todd, which the Star describes the "performance" as her as "a turkey trot, a tango, the hootchie-coo, and kindred dances, in the foliage and the bloom."

Successfully thwarting the police officer, the cow knocked Todd off his bicycle and sent his baton and helmet flying as he ducked for cover behind a tree.

Satisfied with her progress, the cow feasted upon a champion's breakfast of a freshly planted geranium bed, much to the chagrin of the Parks Commissioner Chambers. Police and Granatstein attempted to lasso her in vain as her rage propelled her down Wells St.

A butchered capture

After such a raucous jaunt through town, the cow was finally captured near Brunswick Ave. by a squad from the No. Seven police division "with ropes around her neck, nose, and front legs," the Globe describes.

By this point, a small crowd had formed to follow the cow — many of whom were church goers disturbed by the antics of some "sorrel cow" and "forgot the services for an hour or so," noted the Star.

Split between bringing calm to the situation and calling for the cow's demise, the crowd bickered on the best way to wrangle the bovine. "That's a mad cow … Shoot her," one man declares. Another scoffs: "Mad nothing, I grew up on a farm and I know. If the cops would chase the crowd and give the poor animal a chance to cool down, there would be less trouble."

Thankfully, a horse ambulance was called for Granatstein from Ontario Veterinary College to take this black and white adventurer home.

It was reported the next day that the cow showed no signs of the trauma from the day's previous escapade, "She was no more mad," Granatstein reported, "she is just as quiet as quiet can be."